


Roses

by AngelofDarkness1605



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:51:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofDarkness1605/pseuds/AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Gold makes certain that Belle French will never find out that the Valentine gifts he sends her are from him - or so he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I'm telling you papa, there's nothing that can go wrong."

"I wouldn't be so certain about that," Mr. Gold grumbles to his twelve years old son, looking away from the grandfather clock in the corner of his living room. He personally repaired the magnificent antiquity a few weeks ago, but he could swear that it's broken once more, with the arrows moving as slowly as they do.

"Would it make you feel better if I tell you what I'm going to do, to show how well I know your plan?"

"That's a good idea, son," the landlord agrees. If anything, his boy's suggestion is more encouraging than reminding the two of them that the things in his life that can go wrong usually _do_ go wrong, especially with regards to his rare ventures into romance.

"All right," Neal says, sitting up straighter. "Ten minutes from now, before I go to school, I go to Mr. French's flower shop to buy a hundred of his best red roses with the money that you are going to give me. If he asks, I say that it's 'none of his business' who the roses are for, like you said. I don't want a card either. When I have the roses, I go to Miss French's apartment above the library. I don't walk along Main Street, but go through alleys to reach her home. I try not to be seen by anyone. When I'm there, I put the roses on her doorstep, along with that strange box you want her to have."

Neal gestures at the small box currently standing between them on the table. It was the most beautiful one he could find in his shop, with delicate engravings and subtle colors. It's the contents of the box though that truly matters… the golden bracelet that he spent weeks slaving on, designing and creating its four delicate charms all by himself - a book to represent her, a spinning wheel she'll never know about to symbolize him, and a teacup and a rose for both of them if the world would actually be a good place.

"Then I leave as soon as possible, _without_ ringing her doorbell," Neal continues. "I'm not allowed to stay, not even if I hide, to check whether she actually finds the gifts."

"Exactly," the landlord nods, relieved that he at least won't have to admit to his son that he _knows_ that the librarian will leave her apartment for work not long after he has left the gifts. "And remember, make absolutely certain that she won't see you from inside her home. Miss French is under no circumstances to know that you put those gifts there… and especially not that you did so on my behalf."

"I still don't understand why Miss French isn't allowed to know that _you_ are giving her these gifts for Valentine's Day."

"I want Miss French to know that she is admired and cherished, especially after that adulterous oaf of an ex fiancé treated her the way he did. What I don't want her to know is that _I_ am the one admiring and cherishing her."

"And that you are the one _loving_ her," his son adds pointedly. "Really, papa, why can't you just tell her? She'd be lucky to have you as her boyfriend and _I_ would be lucky to have her as my mom."

"You know very well that I'm not having this discussion with you again," Mr. Gold replies tensely. It's not just that the lovely librarian wouldn't want to have anything to do with a crippled single father twice her age… she _especially_ wouldn't want to know that the town's monster carries a torch for her. Which makes it only sadder that his son too is so very fond of her.

"But she _likes_ you, can't you see? She wouldn't come over to your shop so often if she didn't!"

"Miss French happens to share my enthusiasm for antique books, that's all. In fact, she loves them so much that she visits the shop _despite_ it being owned by me. Now, it's time to get your coat."

"But it'll be five more minutes until…" The boy smiles knowingly at the stern glance his father gives him. "All right, papa."

"Be careful with this," Mr. Gold says, handing him the wooden box, the money for the roses and the twenty dollar bill required to persuade his son to do this in the first place.

"I will," Neal replies solemnly. "Miss French will never know that you are the one who is too afraid to tell her how he feels."


	2. Chapter 2

When his doorbell rings approximately twelve hours after the gifts are delivered, Mr. Gold presumes that Neal's sleepover at the Nolans' is cancelled and that his son announces his unexpected arrival rather than barging into the house by using his spare key.

The landlord makes his way to the door as quickly as his bad leg allows him in the February cold, anxious to ask his son about this morning's events.

What he did not expect is to find Belle French on his porch once he opens the front door. He is yet less prepared for her bright eyes, windswept hair and flushed cheeks than he usually is… and he especially isn't ready to see a hint of gold around her left wrist.

"Good evening, Mr. Gold," she says, with a sort of shyness that he never heard in her voice before.

"Miss French…" he rasps, bracing himself for whatever is to come. He may not know the reason she is here, not yet, but it can't be anything good… and it's doubtlessly related to the foolish plan he set in motion this morning.

"I came here to… well, to…"

She falters, only adding to his confusion… which reaches a whole new level when she steps closer towards him and lies her hand on his where it rests on his cane.

The pawnbroker is spell-bound, utterly enchanted when she purposefully caresses his skin and leans in to him, slowly closing the distance between them.

Staring at her with wide, bewildered eyes, it doesn't occur to Mr. Gold to object or step away, to prevent whatever she's going to do… although there's no doubt in his mind that she can't possibly do what she _appears_ to be doing.

But then her lips are pressing against his and she's _kissing_ him, and he's lost. His eyes still open and his heart on the verge of beating its way out of his chest, his focus is torn between the incredible feeling of her mouth caressing his and the knowledge that this _can't be real_.

And yet, she doesn't disappear into thin air or anything of the kind when she slightly withdraws, looking at him expectantly.

"What is this for?" he asks, hoarse and increasingly aware that, _somehow_ , what just happened wasn't a hallucination after all and that he just utterly wasted the moment he has dreamed of for years.

"I wanted to personally thank you for the gifts you had delivered to my house this morning."

"How did you know they were mine?" he manages to bring out.

"I didn't know for certain they were yours," she says quietly. "Or at least, not until now."

Thoroughly flustered, it slowly dawns on him that he just personally confirmed whatever vague suspicion she may have had before.

"Miss French, I… I don't know what to say."

"Of course, I _could_ have kept a closer eye on you - and your son - in the next few days to see if either of you behaved differently than usual. I could also easily have asked my father who bought those particularly beautiful roses this morning."

"You were never meant to know..."

"But there are only a few people in this town who might be able to afford those gifts, and there's only one of them I hoped to have sent them to me."

She looks questioningly at him, squeezing his hand as it all but clings to the suddenly very limited support that his cane has to offer.

"So here I am," she says, visibly inhaling. "Trying to tell you that I reciprocate the feelings you implied with these gifts."

Mr. Gold isn't too far gone yet to be oblivious to the fact that this is the chance he has been waiting for all this time, handed to him on a silver platter. But still, all he can do is drink in the sight of her, yet braver and lovelier than he thought her to be, within reach and intouchable at the same time.

"These gifts do mean what I think they do, don't they?" she asks, doubt creeping in her voice and her hand slipping off his as she takes a step backwards.

"Yes, _yes_. Beautiful Belle, I…" Finally, _finally_ , he dares to directly approach her, taking a step towards her and reaching for her face with a questioning hand. "I…"

Inhaling deeply, he knows painfully well that this may as well be his one and only chance to find the Happily Ever After he never allowed himself to dream of.

"I love you. I was afraid to say anything because I was convinced that you could never feel the same way, but..."

"I love you too, you impossible man," she smiles, kindly interrupting him when he falters and gestures helplessly, disbelievingly.

This time, Mr. Gold knows better than to allow shock and confusion to get the better of him when she reaches for him again, meeting her halfway to let her slant her lips over his.


	3. Chapter 3

When Mr. Gold drifts back into wakefulness, he's immediately aware that there is something considerably different than usual. For starters, he can tell that he isn't in the bed where he hasn't failed to wake up for a single morning in the past two decades or so.

When he opens his eyes, he first sees what appears to be an extended breakfast laid out on a table right in front of him. His son is sitting on the other side of said table, grinning widely for some reason.

The landlord shifts slightly, turning his head in an attempt to determine why he appears to be sleeping on a couch in his living room. His movement brings his awareness to the weight on his chest... the warm, pliant,  _soft_ weight.

Glancing down himself, his sight is met by a riot of dark curls... and the lovely face of the woman he loves when she stirs and looks up, her gorgeous blue eyes opening slowly.

" _Belle_ ," he breathes, the memories of the previous night flooding back all at once. After she showed up at his house and kissed him bravely, he invited her into his house, where they spent the greater part of the night talking, cuddling and kissing on the couch.

They must have fallen asleep eventually, with Belle lying on his chest, her legs on either side of his and his arms around her torso.

"Good morning," she says, her smile taking his breath away. Judging by the look on her face, she's just as happy to wake up like this as he is.

"This is  _definitely_  a good morning," a third voice says, reminding him of his son's presence.

"Good morning, Neal," Belle says, not sounding taken aback by the boy's previously unannounced presence at all.

"Good morning, Miss French," Neal says happily. "It was a nice surprise to see you here when I came back home."

"Yes, it's a very nice surprise," she replies, looking meaningfully at the landlord.

"Papa made a deal with me so I couldn't say anything about what he feels for you," his boy casually says, much to Mr. Gold's horror. "I  _was_ working on a plan to get the two of you together eventually, but I'm very glad that you already seem to have found out who sent you the gifts, Miss French. Looks like you can be as sneaky as my papa!"

"I do my best," she says, nudging the man in question playfully.

"I made the two of you breakfast," his son says proudly, gesturing at the large tray with prepared food in front of them. His son's scheming is forgiven immediately when the landlord spots the croissants, orange juice, fresh fruit and pancakes visible in his current line of sight… half of which he is certain wasn't available in the house last night.

"That's absolutely wonderful," Belle says, beaming at the boy.

"Thank you, son," he says quietly, hoping that Neal knows just how much he appreciates this.

"You're welcome! Well, I'll be off then, seeing that everything appears to be under control."

"You're leaving already?" Mr. Gold asks, presuming that the boy only just got back from the sleepover.

"Yeah, I'm going to hang out with Emma again; I only came back here to get some DVDs. But then I saw the two of you like this and I  _obviously_ had to stay to make sure that you weren't going to freak out and ruin things with Miss French as soon as you woke up, papa."

"I wouldn't have…" he objects, seeing Belle's bemused smile from the corner of his eyes.

"I know what you're like," his son interrupts knowingly as he gets up. "Do you suppose that I can leave now without taking the risk of letting you do anything you're going to regret?"

"I'm sure that we can manage," Mr. Gold says, casting a loving glance on the woman still snuggled on top of him as she nods in agreement.

"Great," Neal says, making his way out of the room. "Bye Miss French, bye papa."

"Bye, Neal," the landlord and the librarian reply in unison, almost as if the three of them have been together like this - like a  _family_ , almost - for a lot longer than just a few minutes.

All alone with Belle once more, Mr. Gold watches the woman of his dreams with awed, still rather disbelieving eyes when she reaches out for him, caressing his stubbled cheek with tender fingertips.

He can't speak, can't voice his appreciation of her loveliness, of the wonderfulness of the situation. But her smile when he presses a reverent kiss to the inside of her wrist, right above the delicate chain of the bracelet he gave her, tells him that he doesn't need to.

The deep silence is broken by a sound what he only identifies as the rumbling of her stomach when her smile turns into a somewhat self-conscious giggle.

"Shall we?" he asks, gesturing at the meal prepared for them.

Upon her enthusiastic nod, they manage to untangle themselves from one another and sit down next to each other on the couch.

"Here you go, sweetheart," he says, handing her a glass of orange juice.

"To sneaky Valentine's Day plans," she says, raising it in a toast as soon as he has poured himself a glass as well.

"To us," he smiles, clinking his glass to hers.


End file.
